Another Story or Moving On
by Lupi Loop
Summary: There is something that lurks just beyond the gentleness of his smile - there's a hidden thought roving deep in his heart - a secret he can't tell anyone. A secret he won't tell me." A post TP three-short-shot from Ilia, Link and Zelda's POV.
1. Part One: Ilia

Not so happy with how this turned out, I wanted it to be more poignant and lyrical than it is but never mind. I still quite like it, and hope you do too. It's a three-short-shot!

I do not own LOZ or any of its characters.

Another Story / Moving On

Part One: Ilia

I sometimes wonder if I really know the man I married. Sure, I could tell you what he looks like, how he will behave in different circumstances, and I am comfortable around him. I suppose from an outsider's viewpoint, you'd think my whims were stupid - especially if I told you I'd known him my whole life, and have been his friend for as long as I can remember. I myself am just as ready to tell the world that I love him, and I really do, but there is something that bothers me. There is something that lurks just beyond the gentleness of his smile - there's a hidden thought roving deep in his heart - a secret he can't tell anyone. A secret he won't tell me.

He's not one for light conversation. Currently he sits in his habitual silence in the bath water, humming softly as he reads the letter that came this morning. I glance over his shoulder and see it is from _her_. Of course it is. I knew who it'd be from when it came, before I'd even looked at the fancy seal or recognised the handwriting on the thick, cream envelope and I knew, without having to glance over his shoulder at the contents, that the letter itself will be unremarkable in content. It always is. Yet still I have this feeling, the same feeling I get every time I see her beautiful handwriting set in perfect straight lines on that creamy paper: she's Link's secret.

A wife, especially a wife that's grown up knowing and loving the man she married, may be entitled to one or two suspicions when he corresponds regularly with another woman, but when I try to view things as an outside party, I can't see any hint as to what is really going on with them.

Of course, everybody expected him to marry her when the war ended and for the two long years after he abandoned Ordon for the castle, they'd been the subject of whispered hopes and expectations that few tried to conceal. The whole town was buzzing with talk of 'The Princess and the Hero', or so Telma informed me. Much had been made of their friendship. Praise had been heaped on their heads for their joint, tireless efforts to restore Hyrule. There were rumours of her smiles that emerged only in his presence, and the way his expression softened whenever she was near. They were considered to be a perfect couple: divinely beautiful, wise and hardworking. Together they lead Hyrule forward, making our land rise from the ashes of the terrible war like a phoenix, bringing us to a new age of prosperity. But whilst those around them made idle talk, and the hopeful watched them continually, the two key players denied expectations and after two long years, Link returned home.

I'd expected to see a dramatic change in him - after all he was Hyrule's hero, the Queen's favourite and the Lord High Knight of the people. I was amazed then to see the same boy who had left all that time ago return virtually unchanged. The only thing I could see was that he had grown up. He had become a man, strong and handsome, no longer shy but unassuming and confident in himself. I was delighted to have him back, of course, but even then through my happy haze I knew see there was something wrong.

Like everyone else, I guessed that he had fallen out with the Princess but he soon belied that. When he spoke of her, even now when he speaks of her, he uses the same degree of affection that he does when he speaks of Shad, or Ashei or Renado – our other friends. And when the letters started arriving from the castle, he read them openly, often laughing at the contents and shared them with us all. She spoke of the continuing restoration work, amusing anecdotes from the servants but never once of love. She even signs her letters with 'Your Friend, Zelda Harkinia'.

I had always hoped I would marry him, but still when he asked, it was a surprise. The lack of sugary compliments and his clear distaste for wooing did not worry me. I knew my man, I knew his honesty. He asked me to take him as he was, and expressed himself in simple, gentle terms and treated me with fondness. Whilst I didn't expect fireworks from so reticent a man, I couldn't help but sigh when I didn't get them. I wondered if it was because of her but I couldn't ask. I accepted his vows of love and faithfulness, and I believe them. I just wonder if I really do have his heart. But I suppose my father is right - he is being sincere. After all, why would he trap himself in a marriage with me if he was in love with someone else?

I stand as I finish helping him bathe and can see that his mood has darkened, he seems to be leaning over the letter, peering at it intently but before I can ask him what is the matter, he seems to sense my curiosity and he blinks and looks up at me.

Even f I do have my doubts about where his heart really lies, I can't deny how much I adore him and whether he loves me or not, he is at least a good actor. He never consciously gives me reason to question him rather he takes very good care of me and treats me kindly. He places his hands on my cheeks and gently pulls me towards him so that he can kiss me.

"Thank you, Ilia." He murmurs, and casting the letter aside, he stands and reaches for his towel.

As I watch him, I feel my cheeks burning. It's been six months since our wedding and still I'm stupidly shy around him when he's naked. I can't help but stare at him and the thoughts that run through my head are more than enough to send the blush from my cheeks through my whole body. He is so very attractive. He catches me staring and flashes a grin at me.

"What?" He laughs.

"Y-you are..." I stammer and gulp. Hurriedly I shift my gaze to the relatively safer vista of the wooden ceiling and try not to concentrate on the sounds of him moving.

"I am what?"

"I-I am so blessed to h-have you..." I sigh happily and return my gaze to him. Truly I believe that I am blessed. Though I fear he has his secrets, I can't deny that he is such a good husband. He provides for me and protects me, treats me with affection and humour. I love him so much. He smiles at me and takes me in his arms (he's still soaking wet from his bath) but when I chance to look into his eyes, I can see a hint of sadness in his gaze.

* * *


	2. Part Two: Link

Part Two: Link

She's not blessed. How could she be blessed with a man like me – a brazen liar? She gazes at me with those big green eyes of her – so full of trust and warmth and honestly I feel a chill run down my spine, colder than the winds of Snowpeak. I smile, like I always do, and kiss her forehead, plying her ears with words that I know she wants to hear but I feel so hollow, so detached. Poor, foolish Ilia – if only she knew the truth…

Given that the Triforce of courage is supposed to reside within my soul, I find it kind of ironic that I'm terrified of her discovering the truth. If I was truly courageous, I would have told her long ago why I had returned so abruptly, or indeed why I had left in the first place but it turns out, I'm really not that brave.

I've waited until she's definitely asleep before taking out Zelda's letter for a second read. Yep, I did read that right – so she's finally getting married and she asks that I give her away. It's funny how I can picture her calmly writing that request. She'd be sitting at that desk in her private office, like she always is, the feather quill lying neatly in her hand, her head tilted to one side as her dark eyes study the words she's written. 'Do you think I have adequately stated my case?' she'll ask no-one in particular, 'Maybe I should rephrase…I do not wish to give a false impression…' and then she'll remember who she's writing to and remind herself that she doesn't need to make an impression on me anymore. I have quite an opinion of her anyway.

She won't offer me an apology for springing her news on me like this, and to be honest, I'd hate to hear one from her. Some things are better left unsaid - we are definitely one of them. Looking back on things my going to the castle had been a mistake: a huge, catastrophic mistake. The 'unselfish' hero had left his home for purely selfish reasons.

Zelda was the only person besides me who knew Midna.

Two years ago, I had no way of coping with the grief of losing her. It was like losing my left arm – I felt her absence so strongly and there was no way of ever seeing her again and I couldn't understand why she had done that to me. To my dying day I'll remember the sound the mirror made when it shattered, that single diamond tear glistening in her eyes. I don't think I'll ever really understand what I felt for her; I'll never have the chance to. She was an annoying imp, then my closest friend and then the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She was confusing.

I couldn't understand my feelings and I couldn't bear life without her and I could feel myself slowly sinking into this mire of hopeless despair and so I turned to the only person I knew could at least explain what was happening to me: my beautifully wise counterpart, Princess Zelda.

It was the best and worst decision of my life. I was right – Zelda could empathise with me – she too had lost during the war and it wasn't until I started to realise my own selfishness, that I could realise her pain. Slowly I began to see beyond her composed exterior that the true Zelda was actually a lonely, afraid girl who was desperate to do the right thing but incapable of doing it and since she had been the one to lift me out of my despair, I realised the only decent thing to do would be to stay at the castle and help her achieve her aims.

And so, just as she had done, I lifted her out of the mire she was in and helped her draw up an effective plan to rebuild, remodel and improve our nation. The more we planned and devised, the more our confidence grew, the more the spirit of the people lifted, the more people whispered.

Of course we knew. We often laughed about it, how cliché – we'd chuckle, the hero and the princess, of course everyone believed that we were a match made by the goddesses themselves. People couldn't accept that we were friends. And after laughing, we'd toast to friendship and to Hyrule – our Hyrule - and to foolish rumours and nothing more would be said between us.

We thought we were so strong – so immune to expectations. Even when her counsel asked for me to attend for some stupid reason and I discovered that they were expecting me to ask for her hand, we laughed about it, never once dreaming of what would happen. We continued planning and enjoying our friendship, working together to make Hyrule a better place than ever before.

But what is the use of thinking of the past – thinking of our past. It is over and I cannot change it. I'm not the Hero of Time! I sometimes doubt that I'm a hero at all; I think I'm just some dumb kid that was in the wrong place at the wrong time and had some amazing help to overcome the impossible. Anyway, even if I am the legendary hero reborn, it doesn't matter – I'm right back where I started – in Ordon with Ilia and the samey, dull life I once relished. It's funny how time can change your perspective on things, isn't it?

Zelda's letter smells of her perfume. Before I know what I'm doing the paper is against my nose and I'm sniffing it like I would have when I was a wolf. I put it on the dresser and decide to call it a night. I can't change the past any more than I could change my future. Ilia is already in bed asleep, peacefully dreaming, her short hair curled around her round ears. I know if I touch it, it will be soft to the touch and when I hold her, she smells earthy but she does not remind me of sunlight, nor can I see the world in her eyes. This is my reality…

Bah! I'm going to bed.

* * *


	3. Final Part: Zelda

Final Part: Zelda

He is late. Of course he is late. He is Link and Link does not do punctual. He does reliable, trustworthy, honest, brave, talented, intelligent but not punctual. It is a good thing that the deadline I set him was two marks early so he will be here on time, by the Court's standards at least.

Has it really been six months since I last saw him? Of course, it was fall when he left, the trees had just begun to turn and now it is spring – the time of rebirth. In the courtyard where I await my handsome hero the trees are smothered in blossom and buds and the grass under my bare feet has that wonderful vibrant feel about it. The first flowers are pushing their way through the earth, greeting the sun in their gowns of yellow and violet. If we were lovers, this would be the most perfect, romantic setting for a reunion.

I turn the page of my book to make sure that those observing me keep in their belief that I am happily reading and I will my eyes to travel over the words but in truth, I cannot concentrate on so mundane a task. My heart is pounding and it all I can do to sit here, pretending not to care that he is coming here with his wife to preside over my wedding banquet and bequeath my hand to Lord Arlen.

If I am ever tempted to wonder why it had to come to this, all I have to do is look up at the castle walls and I have my answer. It is the wisest thing for me, for us. It is a shame that the satisfaction of knowing that one is doing the right thing cannot outweigh the disappointment of having to ignore what one truly desires. Knowing that there could be no alternative does not stop one wishing that somehow things could be different.

A servant approaches with the tiding that he has finally been sighted; she remarks that he is early and I cover my smile with a hand. It would not do for the staff to know that the queen resorted to playing a trick on her dearest friend. I feel my head inclining automatically and inwardly marvel at how easily this calm persona is maintained and how my body responds to even minor prompts without any conscious thought. Standing, I let the young servant straighten my skirts and take the book that I supposedly been reading and turn my ambling steps towards my throne room. It would be more appropriate to meet them there.

My six months of speculation come to an end when I see him enter the room and for once my composure deserts me. It would at a moment like this. He enters impetuously, like he always did, and looks if anything more beautiful than I remembered only this time trailing behind him is an awed-looking creature which I know to be his wife, Ilia. She is not how I imagined her – she is dainty for a farmer, and quite pretty (though I hate to say it) though I prefer long ears to round ears and her hair is short. Probably before his adventures they would have made a nice couple but now he is, Link is, different. Experience forced him to become a magnificent man, worthy of being so much more than a farmer and though he tries to hide it, as our eyes meet, I know he still thinks the same.

Our greeting is carefully orchestrated and perfectly played out; our voices hold enough affection to silence those who believe us to have fallen out, but not enough to stir the gossipmongers again. Our words are formal, as it should be, and introductions gracious. I realise my attention is too drawn to Link's blue eyes and turn away casually, only to realise that he had been watching me all the while too. What a damnable situation we find ourselves in. His poor wife…

I release a long sigh once the steward has led them from the throne room taking them to the guest quarters. Confident my emotionless mask is in place, I can finally allow myself to grieve for him, for us but instead all I can think of is how very lonely it is being on this throne. The musty scent of the velvet reminds me of my father and I am conscious of the weight in my stomach, the burden of loss. I miss him so much. Yet even as I think of my long-gone family, I know my mind is merely creating an illusion to mask the true issue: I miss Link. I miss our petty arguments; our camaraderie; our laughter; his moments of silence; his gentle laughter; the familiarity of him. When I sit at my desk drawing up plans for rebuilding work, I miss how he would lean over my shoulder, watching me write. I miss us.

It is early evening when he comes to visit me in my study. The meeting is open, of course, and though I am alone at present, there are always servants in and out of this room. His blue eyes seem to glow in the light of the fire as he stands there on the threshold, watching me. Though his attitude is poised and controlled, his eyes betray him. He closes the door behind him without taking his eyes from me and slowly crosses the room. It is only when he stands right before me, so close I can see my reflection in his eyes, that I feel my mask of perfection falter.

He averts his gaze and sighs. 'Do you remember that night?' He asks, his voice sounds as weary as it is soft. How could I forget something that is so irrevocably burned into my memory? I could never forget the way his expression softened as he gazed down at me, or the way my breath suddenly caught in my throat as I realised how close our faces were. I do not wish to lose the memory of how I felt when he kissed me for the first time and how we laughed when I almost fell off my study chair afterwards. I cannot forget how it feels to be in love. And so I tell him.

"Was it a mistake?" He asks.

"There was no other choice." I tell him, trying to convince myself as much as him. Our eyes meet again and so clearly can I see him that I swear I could read his thoughts if I wished. Only, that would be unnecessary. I know his thoughts for they so closely mirror my own. He breaks first and nods, telling me without words that he understands. We could never be, though the people, the counsel, our friends, and perhaps even the gods, wished us to be.

"What is he like?"

What would he like me to say, I wonder? Arlen is pleasant enough – intelligent and mature with more than sufficient wealth to drag Hyrule back from the brink of ruin. He knows exactly why I consented to marrying him and there are no secrets between us. I believe I will be comfortable with him and I do not find him repulsive. To me that seemed sufficient. It did not matter to me whom I married when I knew I could not have Link. "He is not you." I hear myself say and I see Link flinching.

To marry Link would have spelled disaster for Hyrule. My coffers were empty, the people destitute and demands were made from us at every corner. The castle walls were crumbling and the nation was broken.

He nods and turns away and I see my own pain reflected in those beautiful blue eyes of his. It is the same pain that haunted him for the many long months after he lost Midna, the very same pain that drew us both together and forced us to rely upon each other so deeply.

"I understand." I hear his whispered words to me as he turns towards the door, preparing to walk away from me for the second time in my life. I sigh and return my attention to my plans, our plans, for rebuilding Hyrule. Such ambition comes at a high price. We had been naive, thinking that love alone would be enough to right the wrongs of this world, that it would carry us away from such ordinary considerations as money. But it is not. My nation is broken and bankrupt and as its queen, I am forced to act selflessly. Yet as long as he remained unattached, my desire to have him and damn the consequences would remain. And so to save Hyrule, he left me and he married her.

He turns and catches my eye. He will survive this, he always does, he is so much stronger than he realises. In time he will forget this hurt; his wife will bear him children and he will be happy. The struggles we have faced will fade into the background of his mind and will be replaced with the more immediate concerns of life now. Midna and I will both be remembered as a youthful fancy of his, an impossible, improbable dream and when he thinks of me, he will laugh at his foolishness, for whoever heard of a peasant marring a queen?

Perhaps I shall feel that too one day and I too will laugh at my folly. I cannot say I feel much like merriment now.

"If only I were a rich man…" he whispers.

We both know that our unhappiness is not his fault, and I have never apportioned any blame on him for our situation. It is the fault of my forebears who misused their wealth. It is the fault of the privy council for failing to monitor it closely. It is the fault of Zant for destroying my nation. It is the fault of the queen for loving the hero too dearly but all that does not matter now. It is too late to apportion blame. We came together and now we must both move on along separate paths.

"…then ours would be another story."

* * *

Opinions/reviews would be appreciated as I'm not altogether convinced that this three-short-shot made any sense at all!


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